


The Dripping of Pomegranates

by vinnywrites



Series: ( 𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓 ) : 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) is Hades, Alternate Universe, Catra (She-Ra) is Persephone, Dark Adora (She-Ra), Dark Catra (She-Ra), Everything is fair in mortal wars and godly love haha, F/F, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, full length stories, i am an indecisive bitch, i just want to write about murderous wives who don’t care about mortals fuck off, im horrible at writing like..., or maybe just twice, please tell me a good job when i update, so the summary might change four thousand times, tell me good job right now—, there was an attempt at humor, very slow updates, we’ll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnywrites/pseuds/vinnywrites
Summary: Zeus made her the Goddess of Springtime, knowing that Agriculture gods were the most common and she wouldn’t be able to get power over others easily. Unfortunately, Hades was around and was looking to cause chaos on Olympus.Or, Catra is handed tools and Adora teaches her how to use them.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: ( 𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓 ) : 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055882
Comments: 23
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a one shot that got out of hand and turned into a series. i blame vodkabites, just putting that out there.
> 
> follow me on twitter (@vinnytweets) where im suppose to post spoilers but it’s just mindless rants of a teenage girl whose going through an identity crisis every month. 
> 
> pencap poetry is a source of lots of my inspiration!! follow them on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has not been edited! nor will it ever, you shall live with my typos and incoherent sentences muhahahaa (this is a joke)

###  **THE DRIPPING OF POMEGRANATES**

### written by **_vinnywrites_**

**“** You become what you understand. **”**

**—** _Seren Kierkegaard_

* * *

She heard the leaves singing their nature song, the grass sticking out of the Earth’s dirt changting in excitement, as the clouds paint a story for their long lost lover, _the stars_. She has never felt such brightness well up inside of her, a type of light that made the bloods of lions in her veins practically sing a song of yearning, her skin is missing the contact of her soon-to-be wife, wanting to feel those long fingers that have caused destruction for so long but finally — finally — had grabbed the tools of creation instead and started making a better legacy for herself.

She has never once saw her lover as Hades; because Hades is cruel and cold, the bad side of the darkness — there is no warmth where Hades wanders, there is no sleepy smiles in the morning, the blood sun peaking through the tainted windows and making her resemble a long forgotten renaissance painting, there is no gentle kisses in the middle of the day, so haste and quick but filled with love, making her have fireworks explode in the pits of her stomach. As she stayed and danced in the halls of hell, she had started to realize she had fallen more in love with Adora then Hades, Adora, who had only let her hair down around her, Adora, who enjoyed going up to the land of the living to watch the sky become a mixture of paint colors.

Adora — her soon to be _wife._

The very thought of it made her throat rumble with excited giggles, it made her face split in half with how large her grin was — the stardust in her chest yearns for the ones in Adora, her heart has been empty for so long, her soul has finally been completed and is once more whole, she yearns to hear words that sing to her heart, a song that has been long forgotten.

She barely heard the door creak open, the fluttering footsteps of her familiar friends danced into the room. She barely paid any of them any mind, her eyes were caught on her own reflection. The dust of the stars highlighted her face, the tears of the sea were shimmered all over her skin to make sure that it flowed properly. Her hair was messily braided, the pink soft petals of roses hanging from golden threads were breaded into the vicious mass that were her curls. She has never looked so… soft before in her life. She was so used to wearing such dark colors ever since she started living in hell, that she had forgotten how the pinks and white and blues looked on her skin. 

It was as if seeing an old friend from long ago. As if all of their features were a blur in your memory but at the same time, it wasn’t. Her heart practically melted at the sight of her, she used to despise looking so soft and… delicate, some would say. But she knew her place in the world — and it was being at the top. Despite not looking like it, mortals shivered at the mention of her name, now knowing that while life was pretty in disguise, the horrors that lie within it would scar anybody for a lifetime.

It had brought such a bright and large smile to her face. She had only looked away from the mirror when somebody gasped. She craned her head to look behind her, slightly moving her body and feeling the silk cloth of the dress gently caress the skin of her legs. Her oldest friends, Scorpia and Entrapta, stood in the middle of the room — Scorpia looking near to tears. “You look… _beautiful,_ Catra.” 

“Thank you,” she uttered sincerely. Entrapta walked closer, a giddy smile on her face as she pulled a blue necklace from nowhere — a pale blue gem hanging from the silver string. 

“It’s a tradition within mortals, at least some of their cultures, I’ve heard. Something old, a protection for your firstborn.” She gently placed the colorful bouquet on the table, her hands reaching for the necklace that shimmered in the light that was hanging from the ceiling, disguised as a chandelier. “It was… one of my first creations. You helped me with it.” 

“Entrapta. Are you sure—”

The woman perked up, her hair moving along with her. The purple locks flew up and took the necklace from Catra’s gentle grip, thinner locks untying the string and motioning for Catra to turn around. She had obeyed. A thicker lock of hair wrapped around Catra’s, lifting the braid up high to expose her neck, as the thinner strands came around to tie the necklace around Catra’s slim neck. “Positive! I have never been so sure of something in my life!” 

Scorpia had piped in, hanging from her red claw was a tiara. “ _Aaaaand_ something new!”

The tiara’s metal was formed and twisted to resemble flowers withering outside of a skull, two pretty pink gems for eyes. Scorpia herself had gently placed the crown upon Catra’s head. “Mortals have claimed that with the next line, everything bright and good will be foreseen in your future! Along with, something borrowed!” 

Entrapta had dug into her pockets, pulling out white small ring, meant for Catra’s tail — she had allowed the goddess to put it on herself, she had always been sensitive in that area, along with her ears. 

Scorpia has smiled nervously as she pulled out a blue flower, tucking it behind Catra’s ear as she whispered, “and something blue.”

The whole encounter had caused Catra’s eyes to get teary. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“With the exploration of investigating manners, many would consider _thank you_ as a proper response.” Entrapta replied helpfully.

Catra let out one of her squeaky laughs, throwing an arm around Scorpia and letting one of her arms open for Entrapta in case she wanted to join. She did. “Thank you,” she said through her tears, a large grin on her face. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ —”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

**SEVERAL YEARS AGO —** _Mighty Olympus: Celebrating the coronation of Kore/Catra, the newest goddess and daughter of Zeus and Demeter — goddess of springtime and fertility._

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Golden lights from chandeliers peak through the glass of the door, crystals gently shimmering as they click with one another and create an old and forgotten melody that only the long lost Titian’s would know. The quiet choir of clinking crystals was drowned by various of voices, coming from drunk bodies that had the desire to touch another that was not their own, smug and large faces decorating their faces that was sculpted to perfection, alcohol in their veins was mixing with the ichor that would always made their skin smooth and tight. 

Once upon a time, she once yearned to carry such carelessness in her bones. She yearned to run through the fields of flowers with a large smile on her face, the sun lights color that seemed so similar to amber kissing her skin with mixed with her tanned fur, making her teeth glitter blindly as she smiled wildly, as she spread her arms out as the leaves started to sing with her, the flowers started to dance in mid-air as she became one with spring. Once upon a time, she would look out the window of her bedroom and dream of stories of where she is the hero, where she slays the dragon and saves the day — they would throw parties in her honor, scream and praise her name and worship the very ground she walked on.

That ambition has dwindled down to something smaller than a sprout as she continues to grow. The harsh reality was like a cold wind to her skin, slapping her in the face and screaming at her to wake up, because the only thing worthwhile she’ll do in her life was be the daughter of one of the most powerful gods in the world. The very thought caused her to tighten her grip on the amber goblet, her narrowed as they followed the cracks in the marble floor, telling a story nobody understood. She will never be the heroine or the mastermind villain, they will look upon her and see her soft silk dresses and flowers weaved into her, her very figure hidden by her mother’s protective cage she calls home and thinks, what a pretty damsel in need of rescuing. 

It was an _insult_. Zeus had looked upon her small and dainty figure, her wide multi-colored eyes and coiled hair and ignored the power of potential that ran in her veins. He had spit on her bloodline and took whatever power that she could make something of herself away, and bestowed her with the title of _Springtime Goddess_. He smirked when he did so, as well, he knew exactly what he was doing as he placed the ambrosia on his tongue, looking upon her as if she were dirt on his shoe. She has never looked much like her father or mother, but his ambition and need for power runs in her veins is evident only to him, and because of that, she is a risk to his throne. 

He was always lingering in the background of her childhood memories. Watching as she excelled at everything, her hands had found warmth wrapped around weapons, her mind was put to the test as she formed strategic methods to win wars without almost any casualties. He watched as she studied and practiced every single day, and he knew — he knew that she could be something more than she already was, he knew that she would unsheathe her claws and rip her chains off herself. 

He knew that she wanted to be Queen of the Gods and made sure she wouldn’t, because one must earn the respect of mortals before gaining the respect of the gods, and he knew that the most common gods and goddesses carry the domains of agriculture. Why would she be prayed to if there is Pan or Demeter? Why would she be worshipped if Gaea body still lingers on the Earth, forever asleep until someone wakes her? What was the point of her existence? 

The thoughts of ripping his throat out with her teeth and watching him choke on his blood made her slightly calmer, but in the end, the rage she inherited from him will always win. Nobody paid attention to when her nails digged deep into her goblet, causing spider web like cracks to appear. The edges of her eyes were brimmed with tears, a hideous scowl decorating her lips as her head was tilted down — her eyes were formed into a furious glare as they stared down the figure of her father.

Oh, how she wanted to _kill_ him. 

The goblet exploded from her tight grip, brown metal scattering across the floor as the mortal's red wine blessed by Dionysus spilled to the floor, making the hems of her floor length dress dirty. Nobody, along with herself, paid any attention to the mess she had created. They were too drunk on ambrosia to notice anything else but the feeling of someone’s lips on their throat and she was far too angry to notice anything around her. 

Perhaps, that is the very reason why she didn’t notice the tall, muscular figure of _Adora_ — well known as _Hades_ among the mortals — approach her. “Are you okay, fair maiden?”

“Peachy,” a growl rumbled lowly in her throat, and while she did not see it, Adora’s eyes had widened drastically. With a wave of her pale hand, the goblet and the wind on the floor disappeared, along with the forming stains on Catra’s dress. 

“Now that—” a pale finger poked Catra in the cheek, causing her features to soften and to turn her head towards the side to look up at Adora. The woman in question was practically made of a blade, her jawline and cheeks could slice paper easily — a large scar that started at the top left of her pursed lips and ended at the right side of her chin. “—is a similar look to married men when they have realized that Zeus have gotten their wives pregnant. But you are his daughter, no? Why are you angry with him?”

The arrow Adora wore shimmered in the amber light, causing Catra to pay attention to her muscular body. She only frowned and arched one of her brows, her eyes drifting back up to Adora’s face. She didn’t answer the question. “When isn’t anyone not angry with Zeus?” 

Adora smiled, her features only seemed to brighten with how large her grin was. “ _Cute_ ,” her gaze drifted towards Catra’s lips and sharp collarbones before drifting back to her eyes. “Doesn't answer my question, though.” She shifted, her head slightly tilted to the side as Apollo strung the strings of the harp, heavenly music bounced off the walls, the crystals from the chandeliers seemed to glow and the painted ceiling that showed how her father slain Kronos almost seemed to move, the painted sky and its fake stars started to twinkle as painting Zeus sliced his father into tiny pieces. 

“And why,” Catra nearly laughed, malice was laced in her voice as she turned her body to face Adora fully, her arms crossed as both of her eyebrows reached her hairline. “Should I tell you? Some of the mortals call you _Mother of Lies_ , Hades will deceive you with her promises of riches and work but will only make you a slave in the end.” 

Adora arched her own brow. “So I’m the bad guy?”

“Everyone is the bad guy, _Adora_ .” She dragged out her name, her eyes wandering towards the dark corners where her mother hid. Despite being an agriculture goddess, Shadow Weaver has always attracted darkness wherever she walked. It was disturbing. “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. And gods, well,” she shook her head with a cruel laugh. “We live forever. We will _never_ die.” 

“Well, I can’t help but disagree.” 

Catra hummed. “Is that so?” She then laughed, a noise rumbling in her throat that sounded so similar to an animalistic growl. “Well then, King, _how do you kill a god?_ ” 

Adora looks at her, and suddenly, Catra doesn’t feel like she was in the presence of warmth anymore. Stardust wasn’t pretty or peaceful, it was a withering ball of fire, a mass destruction, they were made of vicious intents — to blind anyone who ever looked upon them because stars were meant to burn, not to carry stories or legacies of heroes gods have made. Stardust is destroying themselves because of the fire in their chest, in their bones and veins — in a hopeless mission to just breath, they were burnt to the crisp. Stardust was everything horrible, the remains of a war who made children orphans and wives widows, it was a library burning and vanishing thousands of years of human knowledge and setting society thousand years back, a corpse that never really knew how to die. 

It was agony.

Deadly.

Adora was made of pure stardust and suddenly — Catra understood. Why everyone clutched their loved ones to their chest, praying to Hades that their loved ones won’t be separated from them because of a war going that the gods caused. She was everything bad in the light.

She wonders what her lips will fall against hers. 

“May I have this dance?” It was framed like a question but sounded more like a demand that she would follow willingly. She placed her large and pale hand between them, and without hesitation, Catra placed her smaller one in it — she could feel those palms that have slaughtered cities, that has caused the undead to live again and the very thought of it, strangely, did not unsettle her. It had only made a vicious grin dance upon her face.

“ _Always_.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or catra has a thing for flowers (and adora.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is short leave me alone wosjslsjs follow me on Twitter at @vinnytweets

###  **THE DRIPPING OF POMEGRANATES**

### written by _vinnywrites_

**“** the moon is drunk / and the stars intoxicated / with the sins of the sun / and the sadness in the sky / shifts, blurs from the earth / and you stare, / and wonder why / the universe, / never loved you back. **”**

 **—** _Unknown_

* * *

Smooth petals of pretty flowers start to bloom in her heir, white vines twisting with every curl of her coiled strands, shades of soft pinks and pale yellows stood out against her dark hair as she laid underneath the shadow of the intimidating trees. Nearby her figure was the entrance to what appears to be a hollow cave, protected by dead and sharp branches that were jutted out as if they were swords, daring for anybody to approach them. As she starts to hum, however, a soft sound rumbling in her throat and echoing throughout the forest, the pollen begins to glow and the branches come back to life as bright green leaves start to grow out from the branches, accompanied by red roses and its sharp thorns. 

At first… there was _quiet_. The animals didn’t seem to like bothering Catra today, the humming birds stayed up in their nest and fed their young, as white foxes chased one another and played in the dirt. The wind tried to sing its song of love for their trees, rattling and pressing close to its branches and caressing the dark brown bark of them. All accompanied by the humming of Catra, which seemed to bring everything to life around her, made the flowers even seem to almost glow with healthiness. And there was darkness.

The shadows rattled, causing the animals to jolt in shock and for the wind to pause in its song. Catra did not pay any attention to the fact that almost everything seemed gloomier and darker, how the flowers protecting the entrance of darkness seemed to die, as the pollens light seemed to dim, as the animals whimper and the trees almost crumble within themselves, their multiple arms disguised as branches were stretched out in shock, blocking almost any sunlight that Apollo bestowed upon them. And Catra did not seem surprised as a foot sticks out of the shadows, wearing shiny and black armor, followed by a long leg and muscular leg, and soon, the entire body of Adora had stepped out into the open. It was almost a comical sight, to see darkness stick to itself to Adora as she stands in a scenery of life. Catra smiles, and with the twitch of her finger, everything goes back to normal, if hesitantly. “You’re early.”

Adora smiles. Everything about the blonde was sharp and it showed in every action that she performed. She revealed a bit too much of her teeth to be approachable, the corners of her lips were twitched up too much to be considered a genuine smile, and the eyes were the gateway to the soul and her soul was complete and utter darkness. It made anybody with a good conscience hold their breath when Adora was around. She was terrifying like that. “I missed you.” 

She stands and walks closer to Adora, and with each step, the flowers in her hair with the vines start to die. Adora's smile tightened a bit, her hand reaching out to pick the flower out of Catra’s hair. “They don’t like me.”

Catra’s smile, however, brightened. A twinkle in her eyes appeared as her own hand reached out to cover Adora’s. Adora was visibly larger and bigger than her in every way, Catra had to crane her head back to just look at the King in the eye. She felt even smaller than she actually is when standing besides Adora, who could easily stand out in a crowd, for not only her looks but also for her height, but she found herself not minding it that much. “They find you intimidating.”

Adora laughed, a pink hue of color started to decorate her pale cheeks. “Is that so?”

Catra nods, as the flowers in her hair start to bloom again, albeit slowly. “They’re not used to your presence. They don’t have much experience with anybody from the Underworld.” A few flowers begin to grow around them, large green stems erupting from the ground and forming white, drooping petals.

Catra bends down and pick them up, and with a wave of her hand, a pink ribbon appears, which she used to tie around the stems to create a small bouquet. Adora frowns, her hand hesitantly caressing the petals. “They’re so sad.”

Catra laughs. “They’re not sad, at all, actually.” Her hand joined Adora’s with caressing the white petals of the bell-shaped flowers, and her smile turned softer and her words became sweeter. “They’re a favorite of mine, actually. Because unlike all the others, they can tell when someone is… bad.”  
  


“What do you mean?” Adora asked, a frown playing on her face.

“Most people underestimate flowers, and in general, nature. But flowers have a strong reaction to everything, they understand us better than we understand them, and…” She cooes at the flowers in her hand, as her hand hovers above Adora’s, pausing the petting. “Lily of the valleys, especially, they… they can sense the nature of our soul and the purity in our hearts.” More often than not, Lily of the valleys were often in Catra’s hands whenever she was meeting someone new, because if they decayed while Catra had met someone, it would mean they were untrustworthy and had ill intentions with her. She almost blushed, biting on the bottom of her lip as Adora resumed the petting of the flowers as more petals started to appear in her hair. 

“Well, they’re beautiful.”

“Yes,” Catra grinned as if she were a proud mother showcasing her child to the public. “They are.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

 **THE DRIPPING OF POMEGRANATES —** _The Whispering Woods: Kore (Catra) and Hades (Adora) famous picnic, surrounded by the dead and the living._

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun is sinking, hiding behind the twisted and complicated branches of the trees, as the rays of amber started to dim and turn a bit darker and a bit warmer, a clear difference from the lights color a few hours ago — where it was bright and vivid, was now dark and husky. Canine animals peak from bushes, the color of their eyes — varying from dark and mysterious browns to cloudy greys to clear blues — strained on the form of two giggling figures, the cloth of immortality was stitched carefully into their skin. Their skin will forever remain tight and youthful, their hair will never dim, it will always have the quality of life to it — nobody will ever know what old age would look upon the gods.  
  


Catra giggles, and with the sound of her voice, the flowers around them turned brighter, as if preening proudly at the sound of the goddess’ voice. Her hand drifts towards a woven basket filled with mortal food, the tips of her fingers gently brushing against the ripe fruit of strawberries. “You really locked Zeus in a closet?”  
  
Adora nods, as if she had won a war and not committed childish acts. There was a certain smug and pride look on her face, that started to soften Catra’s heart. Darkness does cling to Adora’s shoulders, she was positive that there are ghosts and spirits with brighter souls than Adora’s, but darkness does not necessarily equals evil and cruelty. All gods are cruel, yes, but some far more than others. For the hours that Catra has spent laughing and commenting on the stories that Adora tells (and it reminds her that Adora is so much older than she is, that she has seen the falls of civilizations and the rising of oceans), Adora may be dark but she is not unnecessarily cruel, not like Catra’s parents, not like the other gods that sit on Olympus, judging.

“He was just being so annoying, especially that day. He always complain, he always has something to say but that day—” her eyes twinkle as she looks at the distant, and her face becomes slightly clouded with a small smile, as if she remembered that day vividly. “I just had... enough. _Everyone_ had enough! Hera even smiled when we did it!”  
  
Catra could barely even believe her ears. Everybody knew of Hera, the queen of gods, the wife of Zeus — who seemed to hate almost everything that breathes, especially Catra’s existence (but that wasn’t a surprise, not really, Hera hated all of Zeus’ bastard children).

She placed the strawberry between her lips, biting off the tip gently and chewing it shortly before swallowing, the taste of sweetness cradling her tastebuds lovingly. Her eyes were strained on Adora, who continued telling stories of past meetings, some long before Catra’s existence, some when she was just a baby. Adora looked... softer.  
  
She often wore armor wherever she went, Catra noticed. Even at the ball of the gods, she wasn’t wearing pretty togas, but rather bulky armor, as if to shield herself — protect herself — from everybody who even dared looked at her.  
  
She was wrong, she quickly realized. Yes, Adora was made of stardust — and stardust was beautiful in the most deadly ways — but it was not fair to only think of her as just darkness and nothing else. It was not fair of Catra to look upon Adora and declare her an enemy of all, it was hypocritical of her for everybody looked at Catra and only saw soft and silk dresses and pretty flowers and big eyes and the lies of her mother which they believed were nothing but the truth — they believed Catra as delicate, as they believed Adora was ruthless.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Adora questioned, bringing Catra back to the land of the living. The amber rays of the sun peaking through the branches casted a certain glow on Adora’s features, her long and golden hair were down in crumpled waves. This scenery did not make her appear sharp or deadly, but rather soft — her grey eyes almost seemed blue with hints of gold. She was unbelievably beautiful.  
  
Flowers bloom in her hair as the glass glitters in the amber glow, as the champagne glasses shimmer whenever the sun light starts to drift towards them. The sweet and intoxicating smell of pollen started to appear in the air, and when she utters Catra’s name, the thing in her chest flickers. She has never felt this way before.

She cleared her throat as her cheeks started to feel warm. “My mother had taught me it was respectful to look at whoever is speaking.”

Adora stares at her for a silent minute, her eyes slightly narrowed as her lips started to purse in thought as her brows start to gradually frown. She only broke out of her thoughts when a loose strand of her hair fell into her line of vision, causing her to grumble underneath her breath as she tucks it behind her ear.

The thoughts of promises of being great that always whispered in her mind started to disappear, along with the thoughts and dreams of carving her name into the sky, along with the thoughts of sitting on that golden throne and becoming queen, along with everything that made her want to have her name whispered as a prayer, as a memory. All she can think about is the present, and that present includes Adora and all she can think of is that she’s utterly beautiful and her heart flickers again.

Adora suddenly brightens as a large smile overcomes her face (her heart flickers). “How do you feel about dogs?”

Catra frowned at the random question, she sits up, no longer laying on her side. “Dogs?”  
  
Adora nodded. “I have a... a dog—” she suddenly frowned. “Dogs? Dog? Dogs?” She shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I have... dog—”  
  
“ _I have dog_?”  
  
Adora shoved Catra who only laughed, mocking the king between her fit of giggles as Adora ignored her, continuing on as if nothing happened. “I have a dog and his — her — their?”  
  
“Praise the gods,” Catra giggled.

Adora huffs. “Their name is Cerberus but... but not really—”  
  
“Not really?” Catra grinned.

“Shut up,” Adora grumbled. She tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to ignore the taunts of Catra’s giggles as she continued to talk, ignoring the rest of Catra’s comments. Her talking of wanting Catra to meet her not-really-dog had quickly transformed into a rant about her pet. Catra has never seen Adora like this, her cheeks flushed from talking so much that her jaw must’ve have started to hurt from moving rapidly at a fast pace, to her glowing and sparkling eyes that practically radiated admiration and love. She looks soft, in the nature scenery with the sunlight poking through the complex branches, with clothing that wasn’t armor.

She still can’t comprehend seeing the king of the dead like this. For all of her life, people and gods of all kind had warned her about Adora — Hades — that she was the tall dark stranger with all sorts of warnings to stay away enriched into her eyes and pretty, wicked smile. Her hands are scarred from war, the callouses on her fingers were either from destroying homes and tore families apart or where made when she gripped her Stygian sword in battle or both. She was told that her very touch was black and poisonous.

Maybe it was, maybe to others she was Hades — the dark stranger with scarred hands and a damned soul — just like she was Kore to everybody else, where everyone thought her as delicate and weak and non-cunning, the perfect maiden. To Catra, she will be Adora and to Adora, she will be Catra.  
  
Nothing more. Nothing less.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @vinnytweets
> 
> Tumblr: @vinnyposts


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